


Hollywood Ending

by callmechristinae



Series: Livejournal Migration [24]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-03
Updated: 2006-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the part where he's supposed to say his famous last words, but he's not very good at that sort of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollywood Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to "Nietzsche"

So, this is the part of the movie where I say something big and dramatic that makes everyone cry, flinging my arms out in spite of my broken body. You know, the whole "goodbye cruel world, how little I knew thee" sorta thing.  
  
Or maybe I say something short and mysterious and you can't see my face, just my hand or something. "Rosebud."  
  
I don't really know if I can do that, so I'll just start going and hope that I hit on something good. I mean, there's one secret I have that I can tell, but I promised to take that with me to the grave. Of course, I'm the one who decided it should be that way.  
  
Well, as a child I was a good kid. Always worked hard, got myself into college, got good grades...you know, all that jazz. But, I've told you guys all about that stuff before.  
  
How about we go about this another way.  
  
You know how when you watch a movie and the guy has the choice between two people, one he loves and one with money and you're yelling at him to take the poor sweet boy...person in the torn pants and ratty T-shirt over the girl with the Gucci shoes. Gucci has shoes, right?  
  
Well, that was me. I'm the one you get pissed at for choosing the wrong person. I know I chose the wrong person, and I knew I was choosing the wrong person at the time. I knew everything I was doing, even as the man...person I loved stood leaning against the doorframe of our bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. We were in the loft then, and it was a little bit after Roger made Maureen move out.  
  
I should backtrack, huh? Sorry, I'm not very good at this whole reflection thing.  
  
Well, my friend Mark and I went to Brown together. We were roommates, that's how we met. We got to be real close. I mean, _real_  close. We never really talked about it, figuring it was just some kind of phase we were going through. It ended when we went to New York, but we stayed in that easy comraderie that one has with their best friend. He started dating Maureen, and I was happy for him.  
  
Then Roger came along and everything went to hell, like I told you before. So, Maureen had to move out and I didn't have a girlfriend then. You can see where this is going, can't you.  
  
I told myself I was just using an opportunity to get laid, but that didn't explain the times we just hang out on the couch for hours on end with him rattling off stuff he had filmed while I stroked his hair. It also didn't explain the funny way my heart leapt into my throat whenever he looked my way. Or, well, you get the idea.  
  
Okay, back to the story at hand. I was going to move in with Alison Grey of the Westport Greys. I could get them all off rent free and help out my friends. Oh, who am I kidding? I knew that if I went with her, I could help provide for Mark in way I couldn't otherwise. But, don't look at me like some great self-sacrificing hero. The main reason I left was because I was afraid. I didn't like how much I cared about him, so I ran. That's one thing I have in common with Roger, as much as I hate to admit it. I also didn't like the way Roger's lifestyle was invading all of ours. And, back then, I couldn't admit that I couldn't stand the adoration in Mark's eyes whenever he looked at the rock star.  
  
So, Mark was standing in the doorway of our bedroom, his arms loosely wrapped around himself. He was wearing sweats and my old high school track T-shirt. I can still clearly remember the way it hung off his slender body. Do you think he still has it? Well, unlike the movies, he didn't cry and beg me to come back to him. He wasn't like that. I think I may have seen him cry once in the entire time that I've known him. I knew he was holding back though, from the way his voice cracked a little on just one simple word.  
  
"Why?"  
  
I can still clearly remember the way my mouth was opening and closing, just like one of those fish that's jumped out of the bowl and onto the kitchen table. I knew why, and so do you now, but I couldn't tell him. He'd convince me to stay, I know that I would. I'd do anything for him. It's always been like that, and I'd say it always will be but, you know, I've got the whole dying thing going on right now.  
  
"I never...wanted it to get his far."  
  
Oh God, how he had just flinched when I said that, pulling his arms tighter around himself. I had wanted to say I never loved him, make him hate me so he doesn't hurt so much when I love, doesn't feel like he's losing anything important. But, I couldn't stand to invalidate what we had together. It meant too much to me.  
  
He bit his lip and kept watching me pack, slowly moving towards me. I thought he might yell at me, hit me or something, but he didn't. He just plopped down onto the floor and started folding my laundry. He always said I couldn't fold properly. When he finished, he zipped up my bag, looking up at me and giving me one of those sad little smiles of his.  
  
"I think if you really thought about it, you'd know the real reason you're leaving," he said. I was afraid for a moment that he could see right through me. He had the ability to do that, see right through people with those clear blue eyes of his. "I think you're afraid that this is going the way you wanted it to, and that it's coming so easily. You're not used to fighting for what you want, and I think that scares you. Just remember, even if you want nothing to do with me eve again, I'll always be here for you. I'll be your friend, even if you don't want me to be."  
  
And then he just got up, walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. I've never run as quickly as I did then, speeding down the stairs to the taxi waiting outside.  
  
Alison and I got married, which you all know. Mark was my only friend there, my best man. He smiled for me, but it didn't reach his eyes. I tell myself that there was sadness there because he saw his family falling apart, but when I'm feeling selfish I tell myself that it hurt for him to see me with someone else.  
  
Sometimes I dream about leaving Alison, rushing back to the loft and falling into Mark's arms. I mean, my marriage is a completely legal thing, no emotional commitment whatsoever. Mimi's not even around anymore. I don't even know where she is now.  
  
But, I know that even if I could work up the guts to leave Alison, I could go back to Mark and pick up where we left off. I know I hurt him by leaving and, even though he's still my friend (although even that relationship is tenuous at times due to my need to be a jackass), I'm not sure if he ever forgave me for leaving him like that.  
  
Then, there's another reason. You see, Mark has always had this need to take care of everyone around him. I never minded, in fact, I think I kind of enjoyed having someone take care of me. But, there's this special way he takes care of people he  _really_  cares about. I remember the looks we used to share in our time together, the way he'd guide me where I need to go gently by the elbow and the way we'd always find excuses to touch each other.  
  
I see that again now, in the way Mark and Roger interact. It hurts to think about them together, and I know that Roger's not good enough for him. Of course, I never was either.  
  
Well, that's the secret I'm giving away on my death bed. Well, more death sidewalk. Damn drunk driver. Hey, an alliteration!  
  
Oh, Mark's here now...and he's crying.  
  
No Mark, don't cry for me. I wish I could say something beautiful that would make you feel better, but everything hurts so much right now, I don't know if I can say anything.  
  
"No, Benny, don't try to talk. The ambulance will be here soon, just hang on. Please? For me?"  
  
God, his voice is breaking again. The tears are rolling down his cheeks, and I can see Roger over his shoulder. I've never really been able to get a good read on the rocker, but I can tell he's not pleased by the way Mark is reacting to me. He looks like I used to when Mark was upset, wanting to hold him and comfort him but not sure how to go about it. Maybe he's jealous of the relationship Mark and I have. Hey, I'm dying remember? I think I have the right to be a little selfish and delusional.  
  
"Love you."  
  
Wait? Was that me?  
  
"I loved you too Benny, I loved you so much. I still do know, but not the way I used to. But, please, don't leave. Hang on, be strong. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known. You can't beat this!"  
  
Oh Mark, I know you loved me. I was such an idiot.  
  
I'm seeing a bright light now. Funny, I always kinda thought I'd see Angel standing there in some expensive dress she could never afford in real life. It feels warm though, and it doesn't hurt.  
  
I can feel myself drifting away now, the pain disappearing so that all I feel are Mark's arms around me. I can just make out Roger's hand on his shoulder, his other hand gently stroking his hair like mine used to.  
  
Well, if my last words are telling Mark that I love him, like I never was able to before, I guess I can be happy with that. It wasn't exactly a Hollywood ending, but none of us really ever get that. Goodbye cruel world. If you do nothing else, take care of Mark for me. I don't care if it takes him being with that fucking punkass rocker, but make sure he's happy. Deep down, I think that's why I was the way I was. I didn't think I could make him happy. I just wish I'd known then that all he needed to be happy was me.


End file.
